shadow heart
by bumblebee jars
Summary: "Kill them all," he tells her, and his smile is full of daggers. [Darling Pan, au.]
1. shadow heart (part 1)

Just as John shuts the trunk of his—his _car_—someone screams. Ruby, who's been watching John with a sly smile, immediately looks up and frowns. "What was that?" she asks, and Wendy's brothers exchange a glance.

"Maybe you should check it out," John offers. Ruby nods and looks at him apologetically.

"May I go with you?" Wendy asks, just as the young woman brushes past her. Ruby looks down at her, and looks back at John, but Wendy ignores them both when there's another scream—this time inhuman—and a black blur _whooshes_ past them.

Wendy blindly turns and runs after it, her heart racing. _That's—but it _can't_ be—_

The clock tower is a few blocks away (Storybrooke really _is_ a small town) and the shadow—_his_ shadow—is getting further and further away. _I can't lose it._

Wendy takes a deep breath and pushes herself harder, running faster than she's ever run—not even when there were jungle cats on her tail. She pushes past people and skips onto the asphalt when no one moves for her. Some people are too focused on the shadow to notice her at all.

She reaches the clock tower in a few minutes, her chest heaving and face flushed. She pushes through the crowd, then takes a moment to rest her hands on her knees to catch a breath—all while surveying the scene.

Peter (_Peter!_ a part of her sings and the other hisses) is standing in the middle of the road, laughing, and Rumplestiltskin faces him. The shadow hovers over Peter, waiting for his command. A steaming hole is in the asphalt behind Rumple, and the clock tower's glass is cracked into spider-webs. Wendy almost wonders why she was worried—and then she sees the crooked dagger in Rumple's hand.

_How did he get it?_ she thinks, wildly, because only Neverland (which sees everything) and Peter (who is Neverland) were supposed to know where it was, and Rumple's not supposed to _have_ it.

"We both know how this ends, Rumple," Peter calls, a cheeky grin that used to infuriate her on his face. Wendy's mouth is scarily dry, and she nearly can't breathe._ Oh, Peter, be _careful_.._. "You or me. And I don't know about you, but I intend to walk away from this."

"As it happens, so do I," Rumple retorts. "I have something to live for."

Peter throws his head back and laughs. "Are you saying I don't?" he says, arching an eyebrow, his grin widening, his hands spreading out. "What if you didn't have a reason to live? Would you still be willing to fight me?"

Rumple furrows his brow, but all it takes is one nod from Pan and the shadow darts away—to a brunette woman standing next to Baelfire and his family. Rumple looks on, panicked as the shadow drags the screaming woman to Peter. When Bae tries to intervene, Peter holds up a hand and the whole section of the crowd are pushed back, knocked to their feet.

Wendy can't help but follow them, and when she looks back, Rumple's gaze locks with hers. Rumple scowls and holds out a hand, and an invisible force grabs Wendy around the middle and yanks. Wendy can't stop the shriek as the force pulls her to Rumple.

She reaches Rumplestiltskin the moment the woman reaches Peter. Rumple fists a hand in Wendy's hair and pulls her head back, hovering the edge of the dagger over her throat. Peter does the same thing to the woman, who is held in place by the shadow. Wendy struggles, but Rumple holds fast. "Don't fight, dearie," he hisses in her ear. "You don't want this blade touching you."

Wendy strains to see the edge of the dagger and gasps when she sees the glistening black liquid on its tip. "Peter, his dagger has dreamshade!" she shouts, and Rumple scowls over her. Instantly, she feels a suffocating thing over her mouth and chokes—she can breathe, but she can't _talk_.

Peter's eyes widen slightly, and then they narrow. His grin vanishes as he says, "Let her go, Rumple. You won't like the consequences if you don't."

"What a mutual thought," Rumple retorts. "Perhaps we could release them both?"

"You first," Peter sneers. The woman's eyes are wide and terrified, but she's only looking at Rumple. Wendy swallows and stares at Peter, wordlessly shaking her head.

"_Wendy!_" someone roars, and while Peter and Rumple don't look away from each other—Wendy glances over to the scene, where John and Michael are furiously trying to push people out of the way. "Bastard! Let her _go!_"

Rumple ignores him. "Release the bird," Peter says, his voice strong and sure. "Do that, and Belle goes free. I swear it."

Belle releases a half-suppressed sob and shakes her head. "Don't do it, Rumple!"

"Shut up," Peter hisses, pressing his dagger closer. Wendy can see a little pearl of red emerge and trickle down. "I'm giving you three seconds, Rumple. Three—two—one—"

Rumple lets her go, and the overwhelming pressure on her face and chest lifts. "Peter," Wendy breathes, stepping away from Rumple and hastening forward. Peter takes a deep breath and pulls his dagger away from Belle's throat, shoving her forward with one hand. Belle staggers forward, rubbing her throat, and walks toward Rumple on shaking legs.

Halfway to Peter, and Belle to Rumple, Belle stops her with a gentle touch on the arm. Wendy turns, half-expecting Belle to attack her in some way, but all the woman does is smile at her. Wendy looks at her brothers—Michael, watching her in concern; John, glaring at Peter with unconcealed hatred—and back to Belle, whose red-rimmed eyes are kind and warm and _understanding_.

"Bird," Peter snaps, and the moment is ruined. Wendy swallows hard and smiles back at Belle, then turns to Peter and breaks into a sprint. Peter catches her with one arm and presses his face into her hair, pulling her away to give her a critical once-over.

"He didn't touch you?" he murmurs, and Wendy shakes her head. He nods and turns away, where Belle is only a few feet away from reaching Rumple. Then he smiles darkly, and the shadow shoots forward again.

Belle has time to look up before the shadow's hands pass through her back and come out holding another shadow. Wendy stifles her scream while Peter laughs, and Belle collapses, limp, into Rumple's arms. "No!" Rumple screams, and Bae's whole group surges forward. Peter repels them with another outstretched hand, and when he wraps his arm around Wendy's waist, she wraps hers around his neck automatically.

"Wendy, _no_!" one of her brothers screams, and Peter Pan pulls the pixie dust necklace over his neck.

"Think lovely thoughts," he tells her as she sprinkles the pixie dust over them.

The moment he pushes off into the air, a bolt of green lightning hits them, and Peter Pan goes sprawling. Wendy glances up to see the dark-haired woman—isn't her name Regina, or something?—lowering her hands. Both of them are on their feet in moments, and Wendy has just enough time to see a bowstring pulled back, aimed at Peter—

"Peter, watch out!" she screams, and Peter whirls around and catches the arrow in midair. The arrow quivers in his hand, and Wendy's knees nearly give out underneath her. Peter drops the arrow, and his grin returns.

"Baelfire, when will you _learn_?"

"That's what I was thinking," Baelfire—_he_ was the one that shot Peter? _Bae?_—replies. "But maybe it _is _possible for you to repeat your mistakes."

Peter doesn't bat an eye, but Wendy gasps when she sees the hovering purple magic start swirling at his feet. She stumbles toward him, a hand outstretched, but the magic swarms up his body to linger at his neck, and when her fingers brush the waves, a current sends a powerful ripple of electricity

Wendy picks up Peter's dropped dagger and holds it out, trying her best to look threatening. "No one touches him," she declares to the crowd.

"Bird, don't be stupid," Peter hisses at her.

"I'm trying to help you," she tells at him over her shoulder. An angry man steps forward, and Peter's shadow dives in from the sky to pass through his body. When he falls to the asphalt, eyes blank and unseeing, Wendy barely has time to process the murder before more movement catches her attention.

John steps forward, a hand held out, placating. "Wendy, you can walk away right now," he says, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice as he looks at the glowering Pan. "You're free from him."

_Free_, a part of her whispers, and it brings up memories of her cage and the wild chases through the jungle and the cruel, barbed words that used to make her cry at night. But all of those memories are distant, now, back when she spent her first days at Neverland.

The singing part of her—the part that revels in the chase and the thrill of danger—brings up memories of outrunning jungle cats, harsh kisses and fingerprint bruises on her hips and green, green,_ green_ eyes.

Wendy stares at her brother, who's still talking, and feels her face fall. _John, Michael, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry—please, please, forgive me._

John's voice has a touch of urgency to it, as if he can see she's not reacting to his words. "All you have to do is drop the knife and walk away."

"Good advice, child," sneers Rumplestiltskin, advancing closer. "I suggest you take it." His face is grief-stricken and murderous and desperate, all at the same time—a combination that strikes fear deep in her bones. His dagger glints in the daylight. When Wendy doesn't move, he shrugs, scowling. "Well, no one can say I didn't warn you."

"Wait," says John, and he and Michael stride over. Wendy watches them with wide eyes and realizes what's happening only when Michael wrestles the knife out of her hand.

"No—_no!_ You can't let him _kill_ him!" she screams. John grabs her arms and pulls her away, wriggling and shrieking and turning to face Peter. "No—_Peter!_"

Peter shoots her a sardonic smile, and his green eyes burn in a way that terrifies her. "It'll be all right, bird," he says, looking at Rumple with a sneer on his lips. "Do it, then. Let's see if you truly _are_ a coward."

Rumple raises the dagger. Wendy doesn't scream and watch; she twists around and sinks her teeth into John's wrist. John muffles a yelp and lets go of her, and she turns away with a savage snarl, pushing off her foot and colliding with the Dark One.

She might be young, but her legs are powerful and Rumple is disoriented from grief, and both of them tumble to the ground. The dagger clatters across the road, and Wendy barely pays attention to her surrounding when she lunges for it and grabs the hilt.

Rumple freezes, and so does the entire crowd. Wendy keeps her grip firm on the dagger's hilt as she climbs to her feet and points the dagger at Rumple. "Release him," she says. "I know you know a way to undo that spell, so undo it."

Rumple bares his teeth at her, and when he raises his hand, it shakes. The purple swirls away from Peter's neck and sinks into the ground, and Peter lets out a choked sound before stumbling forward.

Wendy catches him and bears his weight, and together they sink to their knees. Peter's gasping, clutching his chest, and his face is pale and sheened with sweat. "You stupid, stupid boy—" Wendy says, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. _Don't cry, Wendy, don't show him you care._

Peter can't choke out a reply, and she turns him around so his back is nestled in her lap. "I'm here, Peter, I'm so sorry," she whispers to him, his face crumpling. Peter swallows, his green eyes dark and black lines creeping up his face. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a dry rasp, and Wendy turns to Rumplestiltskin. "Save him!"

Rumplestiltskin turns to her and bows, but the hatred makes his eyes look black. "Of course, it's hard to do two things at once. The antidote to dreamshade is in my shop, which is the farthest away from here. Would you rather me protect you from the Queen or save your precious monster?"

"_He's not a monster!_" Wendy screams. "Why don't any of you understand that?"

"It's too late," Peter rasps, and Wendy turns back to him, shaking her head.

"It's never too late, Peter. You'll be fine, you're Peter, you can't lose—"

"You're mine," he tells her, hoarsely. "Don't forget that." The moment the words are out of his mouth, he starts coughing, and on the last one he coughs up plum-colored blood onto his shirt. Wendy stifles her sob with her hand and lowers her head to touch his forehead.

"Wendy-bird," he sighs, and he lifts a trembling hand up to brush her cheek—the only tender gesture she can remember ever receiving from him. He sighs her name again, and then his eyes fix on something in the distance.

A scream claws its way out of her throat and shoves its way past her lips, and she tightens her grip on Peter. Something happens in the crowd—John or Michael trying to get to her, maybe—and she feels rather than hears the rumbles that shake the ground.

It's a long time before she manages to pull herself away from Peter's body. She can hear the silent whispering of the wind that means a shadow's nearby, and she pulls away to look at her bloodstained clothes and swallows the lump in her throat. "Take him to Neverland," she tells his shadow, a sob hidden in her voice, and it bundles Peter's body up like a child and flies off.

Rumplestiltskin still stands guard, and now the only people waiting for her are her brothers, Bae, Snow White, Charming, and Emma.

"Wendy—" Michael says, his voice soft and horrified, all at once. _I don't blame them_, Wendy thinks, squeezing her eyes shut. Before she can question her resolve, she strides over to Rumplestiltskin and whirls him around, raising the dagger by her head.

Her arm trembles—she wants to kill him _so_ badly—but his eyes are flat and lifeless and black, and she can't do it. Wendy fists his suit in her hand, tears welling in her eyes and lips trembling, and tries to stab him. Her hand can only move an inch before it stops, hovers over him again.

"Do it," he says, curling his upper lip. "You'd be doing yourself a favor."

Wendy hiccups and the hand holding the dagger starts to shake. "I can't," she whispers, hating herself and relieved at the same time. "I'm not you. I'm not a murderer."

"What was Pan, dearie? An innocent boy who meant no harm?" he sneers, and Wendy itches to slap him across the face. But Belle's smile—and Peter's broken promise—is still fresh in her mind, and she turns away.

Instead of killing Rumplestiltskin, like she'd wanted, she bends down and plunges the dagger into the ground next to her foot. It sinks into the asphalt like butter, and she carefully carves out the space around her feet.

When she's done, her shadow peels itself from the floor and stands up. "Wendy," Michael says, stepping forward. Rumplestiltskin moves, not voluntarily, but Wendy stops him with a hand. "Wendy, you're not seriously going back there, are you?"

Wendy swallows. "Where else would I go?"

"Home," John says, joining Michael's side. Everyone else is silent, but Snow has had her hands clasped to her mouth the entire time she's been here, and she's being held close by Charming. Emma has a crease between her forehead, and Bae can't keep his eyes off the spot where Peter—where Peter—

"Home," Wendy says, tasting the word like she's never said it before. "You mean our house in London? But you said it was knocked down.

"We can build a new house, just like the one in London."

She thinks of the tree house and jungle cats and heat and pixie dust flowers and sighs, tears pricking her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I love you, both of you."

Before her brothers can respond, her shadow swoops down and grabs her hand, its glowing yellow eyes bright with an unspoken question. Wendy's tear-choked sigh is its answer, and it picks her up so it's hovering in the air. Wendy makes sure to hold the dagger to her as the shadow lifts up, higher and higher, until Storybrooke's lights are pinpricks and her brother's screams for her to _come back, come back_ are unable to be heard.

_Forgive me. Please._

* * *

Neverland is completely, _utterly_ empty. Not even the jungle cats prowl its shores anymore, and the mermaids don't haunt the waters. She can _feel_ the emptiness the moment the shadow lowers her to the beach and her bare feet dig into the sand and eventually the dirt. Wendy drops the dagger and stumbles to her knees in the jungle, burying her face in her hands.

Wendy's sob is the type that makes her shoulders shake and eyes burn and lungs rattle. _I shouldn't have run after that shadow,_ she tells herself. _I should've left with John and Michael, like I was supposed to._

A crack of thunder makes her look up from her arms to see black clouds swirling above her. Wendy slowly gets to her feet and walks to her tree house, half-expecting it to be gone, just like the rest of the empty land.

When she sees her furniture and her bed still intact, another lump wells up in her throat, and she sits on the mattress.

_Consider this a gift... to welcome to you Neverland._

The rain patters outside, lasting as long as her tears. When her eyes finally dry up to become red and puffy, she changes out of her bloodstained clothes and stares out the window, the one that overlooks the entire southern part of the island.

Without meaning to, she falls asleep, and the first thing she dreams of is Peter coughing up purple—_poisoned_—blood. She tries everything from magic to Rumplestiltskin to the spring's water on Dead Man's Peak to save him, but the hole in his chest keeps oozing. When he smiles, his teeth are stained red. When he kisses her, he still tastes like apples and mint, with only a slight metallic tang.

He pulls away from the kiss and grips her hips, resting his forehead against hers. "You are Neverland now, bird," he tells her. She tries to respond, but it's like she's under the spell that kept her from speaking—all she can do is stare at him as he pulls away and laughs. "Yes, the island loves you—it always has." He turns back to her, eerie smile still in place. "Avenge me. Kill them, Wendy," he hisses. "Kill them all."

The spell keeping her from speaking is lifted, and she smiles. "I will," she promises him. When she blinks, Peter is replaced by her, her face and hands bloodstained, gripping a crooked dagger over the pale body of Emma Swan.

She wakes up with a start, and all she can hear is the rain and the whispered words of the jungle.

_You are Neverland now, Wendy. _

_Kill them all._


	2. the day is done (part 2)

**[A/N]** I _strongly_ recommend reading Shadow Heart before this.

* * *

Wendy crouches on the roof, and a golden glow mixed with purple highlights Nibs' stolen shirt on her shoulder, lighting up the night air around it. "Vidia," she hushes, and the fairy on her shoulder burrows herself further in Wendy's hair, masking the glow slightly. Wendy can only feel the heat vibrating off of her, as her weight is barely more than a handful of dandelion seeds in her palm. The dagger on her waist and the leather pouch slung over her shoulder weigh more than the fairy.

"What are we going to do to them, dear?" Vidia whispers, and pricks Wendy's earlobe with her claws. Wendy tries to remember a Neverland full of sunshine and fairies without claws and sparkling sapphire oceans, but all she can draw up is a red-tinted sea and sharp teeth and _darkness._

Not the darkness where the moon illuminated the forest, no; the darkness where lost girls trip over vines unseen and are blind to the sky. The darkness where the only light comes from the fairies still drawn to the inner goodness in the island's mistress.

"Steal their magic," she tells the fairy on her shoulder, and stands up on the roof. Storybrooke is quiet at this time of night—even from here, she can see 4:42 on the clock tower, miles away from Gold's house—and no one prowls the streets to see Wendy step off the roof and float to the second-story balcony. Two full necklaces of pixie dust—all she's been able to take from the pixie dust trees that she managed to reintroduce to the island—hang around her neck, and a third necklace is half-empty.

Wendy slides the dagger out of the sheath that hangs on her hip and holds up her free hand. Vidia hops into it with a small laugh, and Wendy holds it up until the tiny woman is face-to-eye with her. "Go find Felix," she tells her. "It shouldn't take long, I hope."

Vidia's wings unfold from her back, majestic and white and dragonfly-like, and a predatory smile creeps across her face. "It's my talent, darling," she coos, and Wendy resists the urge to bash her head against Gold's stain glass windows—no one is allowed to call her that, and Vidia knows this—but the fairy has vanished before Wendy can react.

Wendy schools her features as she gazes as the dagger she stole from Rumple so many months ago, and holds it up to cross the moon. "Dark One," she hisses, and the words sound more snake-like than human. She represses a shudder—I need to do this, for Peter, for Neverland—and chokes on the words that leave her mouth. "I summon thee."

She only has to wait for a few moments before Rumplestiltskin opens the balcony door and stumbles out, dressed in silky red pajamas and blinking sleep from his eyes. He stiffens the moment he sees her, though, and he is as alert as a jungle cat stalking its prey. "You. How can I help you, _dearie_?"

Mistress reminds her of what the fairies call her, and it prickles on her skin. Wendy takes a breath and steels her courage, and lifts her face to smirk at him as best she can. "Did Tink ever get her wings back?" she asks.

"Yes," Rumple grits out. "Did you come all this way to ask after a friend? How touching."

"Did she ever use the pixie dust I gave her?"

"The pixie dust is dead, and has always been dead," he tells her. "The Blue Fairy gave Tinkerbell her wings back."

"Where is she now?"

"She stays at Granny's Inn, room 108."

"Could I steal it without waking her?"

"Perhaps." Rumple tilts his head, though his fists are clenched. Wendy gazes at the blade, touching the slivered ends where the dreamshade she'd washed off in Neverland's corrupted springs has corroded the metal. "It depends on if you're sneaky enough or not. A life on the run has turned that girl into a _very_ light sleeper."

Wendy spots a purple-golden glow out of the corner of her eye, and holds up her free hand, which Vidia lands on and stares at Rumple, hand cocked on her hip. "I've got 'em, whenever you're ready," she tells her, and Wendy nods.

"Do you have any fairy dust with you?" When Rumple nods, she allows herself to smile. "Go get it. Oh, and while you're there, get a key to your shop, too. Do not stop for anything but the fairy dust and the key. Go now."

Rumple turns without a word and walks away, and Wendy turns to Vidia. "Where is he?"

Vidia smirks, and her teeth almost look pointed in the night. Wendy's too used to the sight of the fairies of Neverland now to be scared. They'd only be able to chew on her finger, anyway. "He's in a jail cell. These Lost Boys I've heard about truly are as dangerous as they say, aren't they? My, my."

Wendy pinches one of the wings as the door opens, and Vidia lets out an indignant yelp and flutters back up to her shoulder, her claws digging into the back of her neck. "Now why would I _ever_ want to help you?" she hisses into Wendy's ear, and Wendy smiles and holds out her open hand.

Rumplestiltskin drops a tiny plugged vial of pixie dust, filled all the way to the brim, and Wendy smiles. "This is very old," he informs her, his mouth twisted, like he's sucking on a sour prune and can't bring himself to spit it out. "I took it when I was still a Lost Boy. That's all I have."

When Wendy nods, he drops a brass key into her palm, and she again has to bite back a smile until her cheek is bloody and stains her tongue. "The key," he tells her, and steps back, narrowing his eyes. "Anything else, dearie?"

"Yes. Just a few more things." Wendy keeps her grip on the dagger's hilt tight as she walks around him and whispers, "Close your eyes, and don't move."

Rumple clenches his jaw, and a painful pleasure spreads through her—until she realizes that she's relishing his discomfort, that she wants him to feel what Peter felt before he was murdered. Then she squashes the pleasure down into the deep pits of her shadowed heart and takes a deep breath to steady herself. "I want you to wipe all memories of visiting me tonight," she tells him, and her voice is deceptively soft. "Can you do that for me, Rumple?"

Rumple nods, and holds up both hands—_shaking_ with the force he's exerting trying to disobey her orders—and for a moment she's afraid he'll break the spell binding him to the dagger and turn on her with all the force the Dark One holds. But then his fingers glow purple at the tips when they brush his temples, and his arms fall to hang at his sides.

"What—" he mutters, and Wendy flips the dagger so the hilt is pointing forward and she slams the butt of the dagger into his head so hard he crumples to the floor. Wendy stands for a minute, staring down at him, horror replacing the vindictive pleasure—_did I kill him?_—when Vidia tugs on a strand of her hair, and she feels a familiar tingling presence by her side.

"You did well, Wendy," a voice, gravelly and sending shivers up her spine all at once, rasps. "He is not dead. You have other things to worry about."

Neverland's Shadow floats in front of her, his eyes squinted and white and cruel and tender all at once, and he lifts up a hand to place it on her shoulder. Wendy can feel his coldness radiating to her bones, but she doesn't shudder, because she is far too used to Neverland's cruelty by now. Wendy sheaths her dagger and smiles at the shadow, who pulls away but doesn't go far.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and Wendy steps up onto the balcony railing, her feet bending around the wood to get a firm grip. The shadow hovers behind her, and his anxiety soaks into her skin and makes her stomach flip when she looks at the ground below. "Don't be afraid, Wendy," he soothes.

"It's _you _who's afraid," she says, and closes her eyes. Flashes of purple swim around her eyelids, and when Vidia tugs on a strand of hair, she leaps forward and flings out her hands.

She can feel the shadow at her side and she forces her eyes to open as she plummets to the ground. At the last minute, she looks up, and her body follows suit, leaving her hovering a few feet above the ground. Her heart pounds in her chest and Vidia's claws dig deep into her skin until blood dribbles down her neck into Nibs' tunic.

Wendy takes a moment to calm down, running a hand through her wild hair, and slowly walks forward. The fairy dust holds, and the shadow pulls up to walk beside her. "You still need practice," he tells her, and she clutches her arms to herself.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to fly again," she says, and the fear evident in her voice makes her flush and look down. "That was—" she chokes on her words, and fixes her eyes on the streets in front of them, but the shadow doesn't comment on her shame.

"Vidia," she says, and forces herself to look away from the shadow to hold up a hand to her shoulder. The fairy steps on it and spins around, her gray eyes colorless in the night and her shark teeth gleaming.

"In this town is a place called Granny's Inn. I want you to find it, and find a way to get into Room 108. A woman named Tinkerbell is in there, and hopefully she's sleeping. There should be a vial of pixie dust, just like this one here on my neck, somewhere around the room or on her. I want you to get it without waking Tinkerbell up. If you find it, we will be at Gold's shop."

Vidia tosses her dark, purple-tinted hair over a shoulder and jumps off, speeding away faster than Wendy can blink. By the time she's disappeared into the night and the clock reads 5:08, Wendy's pixie dust has faded and she's walking toward Gold's shop.

"Wendy, why do you walk?" the shadow asks, hovering over her shoulder, and gooseflesh erupts on her arms again. "You and I both know how much faster flying will be. How much closer we will be to our revenge."

Wendy grips the vial in her hand as she turns around and holds a hand up, stopping the shadow dead in his tracks. His essence curls around her hand, almost gentle, and she fights back a shiver. "Cael, my first priority is saving Neverland. I can't focus on avenging Peter if his home is in the state it's in now."

"Neverland is unchanged," the shadow returns, and his eyes burn white and hot. "You cannot save it, bird, no matter how hard you try. Nor can you save Peter."

"That's not what you told me when I returned," she retorts, and pulls away. The numbness in her hand fades as the cold from the shadow gives way, but a part of her still longs for the ice inside, and that makes her take another step back. "You told me Peter could come again. Peter Pan was born of Neverland once; he can be born of Neverland again. That's what you _said_."

"You don't understand the _sacrifice_ you need," Cael hisses. The hairs on her neck stand up, but she refuses to be intimidated by _Cael_, of all things. "Come, Wendy, we still have much to do."

He starts down the street, and Wendy has to sprint to keep up with him. "What do you mean? Why are you being so vague, Cael? Please, what do I need to do to bring him back?"

Cael whips around and, for the first time, she can see some facial features—the downward turn of his mouth, the scowl that hides the kiss on his lip. _He doesn't look like Peter at all_, she has time to think, and then his face becomes a blank mask.

"Every boy needs a _mother_, Wendy," he sneers. Wendy clenches her fists, knowing when she's being mocked, but then he continues, and his words send ice down her spine. "Peter Pan is no different. There's a _reason_ girls weren't allowed on the island—until you. He broke all the rules for you."

With that, he turns and shoots down the street, and Wendy's legs run before her mind tells them to. Running is something familiar, something which takes her mind off of _revenge_ and _bringing Peter back _and _fixing Neverland_, and the feel of the wind through her hair exhilarates her enough that she allows a grin.

Then she sees Cael hovering in front of a door, where a sign reads _Mr. Gold's Pawnbroker & Antiques Dealer_ across the storefront. Wendy slows to a stop and takes out the key, mulling over his words. "Will I have to die?" she whispers, and holds her breath as she slides the key into the lock. When the door clicks and pops open, she opens the leather sack and drops Rumple's pixie dust and key inside, then closes it again.

Cael is silent for a long time as he looks over the items in Gold's shop, but then he lowers to the ground and says in a voice that thrills and terrifies her: "I won't let that happen."

Wendy swallows and joins his side, looking down at the panel of wood he's eyeing. "But a girl will have to die to resurrect Peter," she says. "A life for a life. _Blood magic_."

"She must be willing to die," the shadow replies, and crouches down to brush his fingers against the wood. A spark dances at his touch, then disappears. "There is much magic in this room. I can teach it all to you, if you would let me. Neverland's a powerful place, and there is much you have still to learn."

"I won't kill her," she says. "Whoever she'll be, she won't die to bring back a dead boy."

"Peter isn't—" the shadow stops and draws in a ragged breath. "Wendy, I will return. Whatever you see, don't be afraid. While I'm gone—"

"While you're gone?" Wendy asks, and steps back and bumps into two agonized dolls. She recoils from the dolls and faces Cael again. "What are you going to do?"

"Look for a black wand. That will help you when we return to Neverland. Send out your magic and take anything you desire."

Wendy watches, her words stuck in her throat, as Cael rises up and dives through the wood like it's water. The yellow sparks she'd seen before crackle to life, making little popping noises, and one touches and stings her foot, but they die down after many heart-pounding seconds. Wendy grips the counter, unable to believe what she's just seen, and then Cael's words echo in her head.

She closes her eyes, her heartbeat slowing down with each breath, and ignores the trickle of sweat that drips down her temple. _I can do this. Just like I practiced. Just like I practiced. Show me what I need._

When she opens her eyes, items glow white whenever she turns her head. Wendy stifled a gasp and steps forward, opening her pouch again. _Don't think about Cael_, she tells herself, but tears prick the corners of her eyes anyway.

Her pouch is half-stuffed and she's examining a black wand with an intricate silver hilt when Vidia returns and perches on the glass cabinet in front of her. A necklace holding a vial of gray pixie dust is clasped in her hands, making it look oversized for her. Wendy sets the wand down and puts the vial in her quickly crowding pouch and braves a smile.

Vidia's wicked grin fades when she sees Wendy's expression. "Wendy, what's wrong?"

"Can shadows die?" she asks, and her voice sounds faint, even to her. She turns away and shoves a book with golden loops and a ruby in the center of its cover into the pouch, stretching it to its limit. When she squeezes the wand in, there's only a small square of space left.

"Only by fire, as far as I know." Vidia's eyes alight and she floats up, her wings fluttering too quickly for Wendy to see. "What happened to Cael?"

"I—I don't know."

Before Vidia can reply, a gush of wind bursts through the door and Cael stumbles in, a gray box tumbling from his hands. Vidia shoots forward and Wendy runs around the counter, but Cael stumbles right through her, leaving Wendy shivering. Wendy whips around and shakes out the chill, horrified. "What did you do?"

"Solidified too much," Cael replies, and he falls to the ground, melting through a glass cabinet. Wendy is rooted to the floor, and Vidia is perched on her shoulder, holding onto her hair. Cael wheezes and stands up, whirling around. "Wendy—I can't—I can't fly back with you holding on. We either stay here until—" he starts coughing and collapses on his knees.

"What's happening?" Vidia hisses, and Wendy shakes her head, squeezing her hands into fists. _I'm helpless. I can't help him. He can't even touch me._

Cael recovers and draws in a ragged breath. "We either stay here until I recover," he croaks, and stands up again, "or we fly back to Neverland individually."

Wendy thinks of the swirling vortex of blue, of the wind thundering in her ears and falling, and seizes up. "I can't—"

"We can worry about this later," Vidia says, jumping away from Wendy to circle nervously in the air. "Two parts of the plan are done. What else do we need to do?"

"Get Felix," Wendy says. "Cael, will you be all right?"

Cael nods and points to the box he dropped. "We need that, Wendy."

Wendy scoops the box up and tucks it into the square of space remaining in her pouch. "Be safe," she tells the shadow, and Cael nods and melts into the darkness outside. Wendy's gaze lingers on the tree's shadows for a moment too long before she turns to the fairy. "Vidia, how fast can we fly?"

"You're going to have to use all your training," Vidia retorts. "Are you ready?"

Wendy nods, and Vidia circles her head, raining golden-purple dust onto her hair. Already, Wendy can feel the air filling her chest, almost until she bursts, and when she hops forward, her feet never return to the ground. "Show me the way."

"Better keep up," Vidia sing-songs, and she speeds out of the door. Wendy follows her, clenching her fists to keep her grounded, and focuses only on keeping the purple speed demon in her sight.

It is 5:23 when they arrive at the jail. Cael is waiting for them, prowling around the doors, and when he sees them he melts behind the doors. Wendy can see the smoke-like essence solidify into a coherent human shape, and then Cael opens the door. As Wendy slips past them, Cael lets go, and the black tendrils that bound him unravel some more. "Rest," she pleads with him, and he nods as Vidia whisper-shouts at Wendy to follow her.

When Wendy enters the sheriff's office, she sees the only two jail cells Storybrooke has. Only one of them is occupied. "Felix," she breathes, and the only loyal Boy to Peter looks up.

"Wendy," he greets, coolly, and she runs forward until her face is pressed against the bars. Felix stands up and walks toward her, analyzing her with pale eyes. "You've grown."

She looks down at her body—Neverland's darkness has made her leaner, hungrier, but also more _woman _and less _child_. Her newfound body is hidden underneath Nibs' clothes, but Wendy can't help but think that Felix sees it anyway. Wendy looks up and glances him over, too—his hair is longer, his shoulders broader, his body taller. They used to be the same height, once. Now she has to tilt her head to meet his gaze. "So have you. How long have I been gone?"

"A year. Pan has been dead for a year, and you've done _nothing_ about it."

Tears prick her eyes again, and Peter's bloody smile haunts her eyelids when she blinks. "You don't understand," she grits out. "Neverland's _broken_. I've had to fix it—"

"Is that what all that is for?" he asks, nodding to the bursting pouch at her side. Wendy nods.

"Cae—the shadow has been teaching me how to work magic. I think I can save it, Felix." She extends a hand through the bars, and he clasps it, unhesitant. "We can bring Peter back," she whispers, and the thought of the consequences—she'll have to _kill_ an innocent girl—screams at her until she regrets her words.

Felix hasn't reacted, but there's a firestorm brewing in his eyes. _I have to change the subject_. "We can fix Neverland together. Come with me," she whispers. Felix looks at her, and his face softens.

Vidia makes a noise and darts between them, touching the lock holding Felix back until the metal is covered in yellow-gold pixie dust. Vidia draws her leg back and gives it a vicious kick, and the pixie dust drifts up in a glittering cloud as the lock springs free.

Wendy steps out of the way of the gate and spins on her heel to face Felix, who still hasn't moved. "Promise me one thing, Wendy," he says. He steps forward, and she steps back, until she is pressed against the Sheriff's desk and he's in front of her.

"What?" She looks at him, and her gaze darts to the red scar trailing down his face. The scar that Pan gave him—because of _her_. She almost wishes to touch it, to whisper apologies to Felix, but she holds herself back. There are more important things tonight than reconciling with the last Lost Boy.

"When we fix Neverland," he says, voice sending shivers down her spine, "promise me we'll come back. Promise me—"

"We'll kill them," she says, her fingers brushing his scar. Felix's face doesn't change, but she can see him swallow, and that almost makes her smile. "We'll kill them all, Felix. I _promise_."


End file.
